


I Am Beginning To Wish I Was Yours To...

by rosethorngirl



Series: Yours to... [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Confused Lucifer, Dom Chloe, Dom/sub, F/M, No Dialogue, Other, Protective Chloe, Sub Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosethorngirl/pseuds/rosethorngirl
Summary: It’s stupid is what it is, Lucifer had decided.Illogical.Idiotic.Borderline asinine.Him?Lucifer Morningstar. THE Morningstar. The Lightbringer of the Heavenlies. The Adversary. The former (Thank you for the reminder, brother.) second most powerful being in existence – second only to his father – to…desire THIS?Absurd.And yet here he was again…in the jewelry store…staring at the damn case.





	I Am Beginning To Wish I Was Yours To...

**Author's Note:**

> **7/14/19 - I am going through and trying to edit this to get rid of some of my careless errors. Thank you for your continued support in this series of mine! I appreciate it soo much!**
> 
>  
> 
> I have never written for this fandom before. Be gentle. I have fallen in love with this series so hard I have a problem lol. I think this is going to be a series. But this is the beginning one shot. You don't find a bunch of Dom Chloe / Sub Lucifer on here, only some. And for me, I think Lucifer is the perfect example of a Sub in need of a Dom...if that makes sense. Anyways enjoy and comment if you please. <3

It’s stupid is what it is, Lucifer had decided.

Illogical.

Idiotic.

Borderline asinine.

Him? 

Lucifer Morningstar. THE Morningstar. The Lightbringer of the Heavenlies. The Adversary. The former (thank you for the reminder, brother) second most powerful being in existence – second only to his father – to…desire THIS? 

Absurd.

And yet here he was again…in the jewelry store…staring at the damn case. The case that held the very things he struggled for so long to get away from. The case that held the objects his very essence rebelled against. The case that showed off in vivid splendor the representation of the items that he fought and raged against from defining his person.

What was he doing? 

Surely, he must be sick somehow. Perhaps the detective gave him that dreadful flu her spawn had caught? In fact, he could feel a sniffle coming. That had to be it. Never mind he was celestial and could not contract the flu. It must be some loophole in his vulnerability, because truly there was no other explanation. Lucifer Morningstar did NOT want a collar.

Simply, he did not.

He has spent millennia attempting to show not only his father but everyone, EVERYONE, that while his designation of “sub” may part of who he is, it does not define WHO he is. He does not need a Dom, nor does he want one. Not since he rebelled and fought for his freedom only to be put under heel and cast into Hell.

He submits only if or when he wants to, and only because it suits him. Not because a Dom wants him on his knees groveling for scraps of attention while they abuse his loyalty. He especially wants nothing of the sort with a human! He’s seen in grave detail the absolute depravity that human Doms can subject their subs to, while the sub begs for the Dom's even slightest affection.

No.

No, thank you.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not in this galaxy or the next. 

Lucifer Morningstar was perfectly happy being Dom free. If he craved a firmer hand every once in a while, he had endless resources to get it in a way he controlled by someone vetted and approved by Maze. He was happy sleeping with other subs and Switches on the regular, and certainly fine with putting the occasional Dom in their place by letting them see how difficult he was to wrangle.

So...even though all of that is wholly and unwaveringly true!...why was it that every time he walked past this store where he purchased all his jewelry, he felt compelled to just…look, recently?

He has been telling himself it’s because it's amusing to see what new creations these petty humans have made. These pretty decorations Doms are attempting to use so they can disguise the collars as something more than a vessel to assert their control. But Lucifer isn't fooled in the slightest. Sapphires and diamonds cannot cover up what the collar is…the lack of freedom. The lack of choice. The forcing a being into servitude.

(He doesn’t acknowledge the fact that the simplest of all of the collars in the case – thin yellow and white gold twined together as if braided and the placement of a single black diamond where the middle of the throat would be, almost choker style - is the one that reminds him of the Dom that his thoughts keep circling around. The collar he can almost clearly picture her picking for its simplicity and refined elegance. Nope. He doesn’t acknowledge that at all.)

He cannot logically explain why he keeps coming in here and looking. Nor can he explain why he gets a sudden urge to touch his neck and idly wonder if they would be heavy. How they would feel against the skin? If the Doms that purchase them care to think about such things on their toys? If a certain Dom would care if it hurt him or not?

He shakes his head violently and squares his shoulders before marching out the double wood door from which he entered the store. Silly thoughts with no purpose. 

He has no Dom, nor does he want one. 

And that was that…

~C&L~

…except it wasn’t. You see, how this all began was after Lucifer took his vacation Earth side. He wanted to see the world outside of ash. He wanted to hear real music. 

Music was one of his gifts after all.

He wanted true freedom and for a second he had it. Then Delilah, the poor sub he tried to give a big break to, was murdered and it set his life on a new course of events. He met the Detective who seemed as though she would rather be anywhere than being forced to consort with the likes of him. Oh, he did enjoy irritating the Dom. Fussing up all her well-laid plans. Making her worldview shift on what subs are capable of, even though there was a niggling sense in his hindbrain that felt as though maybe this Dom wasn’t like that. Maybe she didn’t expect a simpering sycophant, but at the very least a person capable of being civilized.

Lucifer doesn’t do civilized unless he wishes to, and her refusal to rise to his bait and snap like all Doms are wont to do begins to grate on his nerves. Where were her faults? Why was she not attempting to put him under heel?

So he tempts her consistently with his body. Shows her all his best moves. Amps up the under eyeliner, wears the tighter of all his suits. Addresses her as Mistress when their alone just to rile her up…fuck, all the Doms in the department are sniffing after him faster than he can snarl a warning…and then the unbelievable happens.

He doesn’t have to.

He had dialed his sex appeal to eleven to attract her, and while he could tell she wasn’t unaffected, she wasn’t taking advantage of it either. Not even when he comes out of his bedroom completely nude for her. 

But in doing all of this to get her attention, he had caught the wrong attention from a Sergeant Gibson who attempted to corner him by the coffee counter and brush his gland on the side of his neck without his permission. Now, he can take care of himself - make no mistake, Lucifer was no damsel in distress - and the 350lb slob of a Dom was no match for Lucifer even on his worst day; but before he could rip the man’s arm clean off his body, she was there between them. Warning clear in her stance, intent self evident. 

There was a strange feeling of calm that washed over him that he couldn’t explain. Because he was never afraid of the cretin; and all told, was never in danger as the man was actually more at risk for what Lucifer would do to him…but as illogical as it was, deep inside his inner sub sighed in relief. 

(He blames it on being relieved he wouldn’t have to explain the abhorrent blood stains to his dry cleaners. Would've been a ghastly bill.)

He watches though, transfixed, clutching a coffee mug in his hands against his chest as this smaller Dom who maybe weighed 120lbs faced off with the Sargeant…for him. Told him in no uncertain terms that Lucifer was off limits and was to be left alone or the Lieutenant would be hearing about his proclivities of harassing consultants.

And when the slug had the nerve to suggest Lucifer had been ASKING for it by wearing his collared shirt as open as he had at the neck, the Detective if at all possible stood taller and backed the man further away. Lucifer was…touched. He didn’t understand why the comment that he was asking for it (because in all honesty he had been…but from the Detective and no one else) had bothered him so much. He was a free lover, and he knew there were people out there who would label him a slut for it. Typically, the slur was welcomed as a badge of honor. A slutty sub he was indeed, and proud he was of this. But for some reason, looking at the Detective he was…afraid…possibly that she could see him that way. It…made him self-conscious in a way he hasn’t ever felt before.

But the Detective was having none of this. She got the Lieutenant involved and the slime bag was placed on suspension.

When it all settled down several hours later, they had caught their bad guy, and they were sharing a drink at LUX – Lucifer attempted to bring up his debt to her. Surely she wanted something from him in return for doing something oddly…noble on his behalf. 

He chose not to think too hard how pleased he was when she refused all his offers of repayment and only asked for another drink and for him to play her a song…it was a novel experience.

~C&L~  
Over a short period of time, things began changing again.

Lucifer consciously knows that he has begun…submitting to his Detective more and more on some things. 

Small things.

Pulling a chair out here. Tilting his head just slightly in deference to her speaking while in the company of others there. Anticipating her coffee needs…nothing major.

Nothing that would draw any attention from anyone to him as doing anything other than being a good friend. A good person – or a good Devil as it were. Things he could even excuse to himself. Pulling out her chair for her is just good manners. Tilting his head is because she is shorter than he and he needs (no he doesn’t) to hear her better. And he was getting coffee for himself anyways; why not make her up a cup as well?

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to be concerned about at all. Certainly it isn’t “submitting” in the sense of what anyone would say he was doing. He doesn’t do that. Never. Not at all.

Not at least until the day his priestly charge dies in his arms and he is left to wonder what this feeling of grief means? 

Sitting at his piano, staring at the keys with his drink in front of him, as he softly plays “Knockin on Heaven’s Door” – he feels almost…as if he is about to cry? He’s so confused. There are too many thoughts. He feels so much and yet nothing at all. He didn’t even know the man. 

A Dom he might have been, but he was just so kind. He had been so sure of his guilt, had been so determined to prove once and for all the hypocritical nature of the priest. That he could not be both his Father’s emissary that was supposed to stand for goodness or whatever and also be a Dom. So ready to be proven right that any feelings he may have had softened towards his Dom detective were misplaced and he should continue on not trusting it. 

And then they played together. Joyfully. Without expectation of anything other than a laugh and a good friendly time. And for a glimmer of a moment Lucifer had actually entertained the idea that maybe he wouldn’t have been opposed to kneeling for the man who appeared to be distraught over his friend’s son. Just to offer comfort and maybe sooth the man’s latent Dom senses that were obviously going haywire in the need to protect.

It had softened him further, not hardened him, as he wanted it to. Made him see that okay, yes, maybe submission didn’t always need to be about sex or control. Maybe submission for a more dominant figure could be…pleasant for the sub? And maybe it didn’t have to be about bringing the sub to heel or exerting one’s own power. Maybe he, Lucifer, could be happy for once on his knees?

Only to have it ripped away from him.

For the first time in millennia he actually – dare he say it – wishes for a Dom of his own to make the world quiet for him. Wishes to be held down and forced to listen to instruction instead of think for himself. Because - this cruel world - it's all so confusing and he doesn’t understand. He feels barely an age old again. No therapy will sort this out for him; he is too damaged and too far removed from reality to cope. Why are the good people in the world the ones that leave? Why does he hurt for no reason? Why does he care at all?

And when his Dom Detective shows up, as if by magic, to sit with him and speak to him about his feelings – even briefly – he for the first time truly appreciates her. And as they begin to play Heart and Soul, he looks to her and sees her as if for the first time and thinks…oh.

~C&L~

He stops attempting to trick her into sleeping with him. 

Not that he ever wanted to trick her in the first place, more that he wanted to prove himself right that all Doms only want one thing and that was for their sub to be silent and agreeable and always sexually available to use and throw away.

He feels like maybe he might be seeing her for the first time in a way he hasn’t seen anyone before. He continues to bring her coffee, continues to tilt his head, continues to pull out her chair…but he also starts really listening to her.

And not just about small things. 

He finds himself valuing her opinion more than anyone else’s – fuck, more than Maze’s, much to the undesignated demon’s chagrin. He finds himself looking for her and smiling more around her. 

It all builds more and more until finally he realizes he wants her to be happy with what he is doing. He wants to…please her. To be good enough for her. He doesn’t want her to simply endure his presence; he wants her to crave his presence like he is beginning to crave hers.

Lucifer Morningstar. The Lightbringer of the Heavenlies. The Adversary. The Poison of God. The Fallen Angel…is falling again.

Except this time it is a sweeter sort of cruelty. For the arms in which he is falling into may not be the endless lakes of fire and sulfur that he crashed into before, but something potentially more sinister. He is falling - with no parachute - into the deceptive arms of love and he has no idea as to what to do about it.

Sometimes he wonders how the Douche could have had such a sweet Dom as Chloe Jane Decker and let her go. Sure, being a Switch allows him the freedom to find his own sub or another Switch or perhaps another Dom at his leisure. But Lucifer isn’t certain there would be anything comparable to the Detective. He has always believed in having the best of the best, but maybe the Douche has no ability to see because he is the equivalent of a child in comparison to himself. He has perhaps seen the bad of the world, but not the same scum Lucifer has. 

He has no way to truly appreciate what he had and lost. Lucifer would pity the man if he were a better Devil. However, he has no sympathy for those that wander in ignorance.

She pats him sometimes on the lower back in a friendly manner when she is telling him he did well on something. It is honestly nothing overtly sexual at all. Much like he sees other Doms do to each other in a show of camaraderie. He knows he should feel pleased that she sees him as her equal to extend that form of easy familiarity but it makes his spine straighten and his cheeks fill with heat. If he didn’t have as much control as he does over his appearance, he wouldn’t be able to hold back the blush.

But it doesn’t stop the bone deep pleasure it brings forth. This Dom is complimenting him and doesn’t expect anything. He did WELL for her. He made her HAPPY with him. He has to war with himself to keep from preening.

He knows Maze has started to pick up on this change in him but he can’t help but not care in the least. The Detective likes him around. She maybe even trusts him and needs him for more than his body or what he can do for her. She’s his friend. 

The Devil maybe has a real friend.

That doesn’t stop him from looking at her sometimes and thinking about how beautiful she is. How near perfect her features are. How soft her hands are. How her nails are the perfect length for scratching his scalp pleasantly without causing any damage. How that would feel if on one of the nights she invites him to watch a silly cartoon with her offspring it would feel to just kneel on the ground and lay his head in her lap to let her run those fingernails over his scalp. How he’d close his eyes and breathe in through his nose all of the wonderful smells around him.

He is fairly sure he would be happy. Ecstatic even. 

He’d drop he knows, which admittedly is a thought that still terrifies him. He hasn’t dropped in ages and the last time he did well…it didn’t end very well for any party involved.

It’s this fear that keeps these newfound desires in check. Because while he has come to trust this human Dom, he doesn’t trust her enough for that. He may never, he isn’t sure; but just in case he locks the thoughts away. Doesn’t even discuss them with Linda. It’s too risky and there are far too many people who could use it to harm him…like his brother.

And then he dies for her.

And everything changes again because his mother is back and he once again no longer knows what to do.

Every time he feels he may be getting used to things they change. Why must they change?

~C&L~

Which is how Lucifer finds himself storming out of a jewelry store after glaring at collars again for the fifth time in two weeks.

He doesn’t want a Dom like that. 

No matter what his inferior hindbrain thinks in moments of weakness, he is happy being an independent Devil. He doesn’t need anyone like that nor does he want it.

And if he keeps saying it, MAYBE he will actually believe it.  
In the meantime, he will get the Detective her coffee and her lemon square, and he will relish in her praise for remembering. He will tell himself to stop glaring at all of the other subs and Switches that attempt to simper in her direction, because she isn’t his and he isn’t hers.

And finally, he will tell no one – NO ONE – that late at night when he is alone, he lays in bed and looks through collars online some more and wonders if maybe…maybe some day he’d know what it meant to belong.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Kudos / Comments are appreciated, more to come!


End file.
